


Tides

by thehonestman (orphan_account)



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Eating Disorders, Extended Metaphors, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25373254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thehonestman
Summary: Jaebeom thinks about waking Jinyoung up from some place where he had never actually been asleep.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Tides

The beach spread ahead of them is long and white. Between the house and the sand lies a thick band of wild, tangled trees and beyond that, sand dunes. The dunes are high and flat and interspersed with irregular patches of beach grass. Sand dunes are rough and treacherous. From the lower deck, they hide the view of the water but anything higher than that is fair game.

“What are you drinking?”

“Beer. Do you want some?”

“Yes.”

Jaebeom sets his hat down on the table and runs a hand through his hair. His hand is cold and wet when it brushes Jinyoung’s own as the beer passes between them. Inside, there is a sudden commotion--family members cry out at the television as a beloved sports team scores. Between them, a sliding glass door. Jinyoung drinks his beer looking out at the beach. With every crash of the dark waves onto the shore, salty air draws in and dries his lips.

“We should swim,” Jaebeom says. Jinyoung blinks slowly.

“No.”

“Won’t you swim for me? We can just wade in.”

“No.”

“Is that all you can say?” Jinyoung shifts his eyes over to Jaebeom, then back out to the ocean. It’s after dinner time, but it’s the summer, after all, and the sky is still bright.

“They’re writing something in the sky. What does it say?”

“It’s an advertisement. Do you want another beer?”

“No.” Jaebeom gives him a look. “I would drink some water, though.” Jaebeom disappears inside for a moment, brushing a hand against the back of Jinyoung’s neck as he leaves. In the brief moment where the sliding glass door is open, Jinyoung looks over his shoulder at the people inside: his mother gossiping with Jaebeom’s aunt, his brother playing cards with Jaebeom’s father, young and old cousins alike sitting around a television. The atmosphere is tender, and Jaebeom’s intrusion into their idyllic family moment is welcomed with a few raised eyebrows.

It closes again, and Jaebeom sets a glass of water down on the table.

“I realized I haven’t asked you how it’s been, recently.”

“Comes and goes,” Jinyoung says. Jaebeom does not say anything. “It always changes. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes I think I can fix it myself, sometimes it goes away on its own. Sometimes it’s good, bad, destructive, comforting. It’s everything, really.”

“Up and down.”

“In a sense.”

“I’ve noticed.” Jinyoung looks over at him and pitches a curious smile, but says nothing. “You know, I’ve watched it over the years,” Jaebeom says. “You know that I have always watched you.”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says. “I have always known that.”

“And that I have always loved you.” 

“I do know that. And you always will? Do you think you will?”

“You know I will. What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying it can come back.”

“What can?”

“The feeling. The need, the routine. All of it goes away for a little while when I get distracted or busy, but everytime things go back to normal it just comes back. And I realized that it _is_ my normal, and that I wish it wasn’t but, that’s all I’m saying. I just mean it can come back. I just want you to know that.”

“Okay,” Jaebeom says at last. “So it can come back.” Jinyoung smiles, but the smile is sorrowful. “Like the waves out there?” Jaebeom gestures out to the sea. Jinyoung looks out too. “Up and down, but always there.”

“Less up and down,” Jinyoung says with more confidence. “More in and out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Waves stand up and then fall into themselves.” He gestures with his hands, forming a fluid peak and then dropping off. “But this does not. It does not dissipate into itself. It is like a tide.”

“High and low.”

“In and out.” They look out on the water. It’s the end of low tide, and the water is still very far out. The people are spread randomly all over the beach. “In low tide, it doesn’t fill me up as much.”

Jaebeom gives him a look.

“A bad choice of words. But what I mean is that it’s there, the water is out there, but at least it’s peaceful, and it’s easier to get away from.”

“I see.”

“In low tide, I have time to deal, and it takes itself out on its own. It’s all down, out, out, out.”

“And when it’s high tide?” Jinyoung inhales with the air of a man dreadfully aged. As he pauses, the tide starts to come in. Water creeps up on the sand with each wave.

“In high tide, it’s all in.”

In an instant, the tide takes over the blankets and chairs of people who have set themselves up by the water. Parents call their children up to the sand, warning them to get away from the water while they still can. Jinyoung wishes someone had told him to do that.

“In high tide, the water just comes up so close.” Jinyoung and Jaebeom watch as people rush away from the water, cram themselves closer together in half the space they had before. “There’s nowhere to go, I just fall into it. It comes over me, and I can’t control it, and the water just starts to go up higher and higher and I feel smaller and smaller and I have nowhere else to go.”

“You can always come to me,” Jaebeom cuts in. Jinyoung smiles, and snaps out of it.

“But look at where you are,” he says. “You’re up here, on the balcony.”

“But so are you.”

“But not really, though. You know. Really, I’m down there.” He gestures down to a single person still holding strong to where they were sitting before, even though the water has surpassed them and claps irregularly against their ankles as if trying to drag them down and into the water. They stand alone amongst the sea, but the water is still shallow, for now.

“So, what kind of tide is it now?”

“We had a really good year, together, didn’t we?” Months ago, Jaebeom had held a glass of Anis del Toro in one hand and Jinyoung’s waist tight in the other and kissed him in Seville. “It was low tide, then.” A pause. “But now…”

Now, the tide has really come in, and the person standing out there alone is now in water up to their thighs. By one particularly strong wave they get knocked over onto their back. They disappear under the water for a moment before resurfacing and hurrying back up toward the dry sand.

Jinyoung clears his throat. Seeing this, Jaebeom thinks about the dinner he had thrown out in the garbage a few hours ago. And he thinks about waking Jinyoung up from some place where he had never actually been asleep.

“You know,” Jinyoung breaks in. “People talk about control. Look it up, all the documentaries, all the celebrities, they all say it starts out of control. They have no control in their work or family or relationships, so they decide that food is the one thing that they can control, so they start.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“But that’s not real.” He drinks his water. “It’s not really about that. It’s really just about hating yourself.”

“That’s--”

“I know, but listen. I’m just saying. You can’t really control this. The tides, nobody can control them. They just get out of hand until they take someone else under before going back in toward the sea until they’re ready to come back out.”

“Well if you think about it like that--”

“How else is there to think about it?”

“Well, someone controls the tides.”

“Who’s that?”

“The Moon.”

“The Moon.”

“Yeah,” he says. “The Moon controls the tides.”

Jinyoung chuckles, looks out to the sea. The sun is setting, and the glow of his skin hides the sickly seafoam green.

“I guess you’re right.”

“So maybe if you make yourself the Moon, you can control this. You can stop the tides.” People start to leave the beach as it approaches night time. Lights flicker on in balconies that flood the beaches, but the people are retreating. 

“Can you make me the Moon?”

“I’ll make you the Moon,” Jaebeom says, no hesitation to be detected. “Is that what you want? You want the Moon?”

“I want the Moon.” He hesitates before saying it, and it comes out sounding strained. Jaebeom looks over, and Jinyoung is nodding, staring out at the ocean with tears visible in his eyes. His lips are pressed tight together.

“I’ll make you the Moon, then.” He drops a hand onto Jinyoung’s own. It tenses with the burden of holding itself together. “I think it will be difficult.”

“I think it will be, too.”

“But it could also be nice.”

“Oh yes,” Jinyoung says. Ahead of them, the sun disappears behind the horizon. As Jinyoung opens his mouth to speak, a sea breeze enters and slides gently and easily down his throat. His hand relaxes. “Yes,” he says. “It could be nice to be the Moon.”


End file.
